Jungle
Army.ca Veteran
- Reaction score
- 12
- Points
- 430
Don't Let This Be Your Mom
There was little Johnny, the apple of his mother's eye, deeply involved in his Recruit Training Course at St-Jean. It was not at all what he expected. He wrote to his mother:
â Å“Dear Mum,
I am having a bit of trouble here. There is a lot of shouting and yelling. I made a mistake on the Drill Square today and the Sergeant was really mean to me. I try very hard and I don't think he should yell like that. It scares me when people yell at me!â ?
Johnny's mom was outraged! She wrote to the Prime Minister, the Defence Minister, her local MP, the Chief of the Defence Staff, The Chief of Land Staff and everyone else she could think of. Her little boy had bravely volunteered to serve his country and now was being subjected to unspeakable acts of brutality.
Some time later, Mcpl Smith was again sweating his goonta out trying to turn this horrible bunch of civilians into a well-disciplined section. He gave his commands clearly, succinctly and loudly. Every now and then he was required to highlight the failings of a particular recruit in the approved Army manner. His Platoon WO approached him:
â Å“Mcpl Smith, it's out!â ?
â Å“What is Warrant?â ? Mcpl Smith asked.
â Å“The whole loud voice and criticism thing. It's just come down from the Minister!â ? Mcpl Smith continued his lesson in a quiet voice and despite the constant errors on the part of the recruits, refused to criticise them. He finished the lesson and marched his section off for a lecture on the rights and privileges from the social workers team.
Little Johnny again wrote to his mother:
â Å“Dear Mom,
Nobody is yelling at us any more and that's good, but today we were taught bayonet fighting by the platoon WO. This was terribly frightening! Just the thought of attacking someone with a bayonet makes me feel quite ill!â ?
Johnny's mom was outraged! She wrote to the Prime Minister, the Defence Minister, her local MP, the Chief of the Defence Staff, The Chief of Land Staff and everyone else she could think of. Her little boy had bravely volunteered to serve his country and now was being subjected to unspeakable acts of brutality. What kind of modern country would resort to fighting in this manner? Why on earth do my taxes get spent on smart weapons and still my baby boy has to learn to be a savage?
Some time later, the platoon WO was attempting to instil the requisite amount of fighting spirit in his recruits. The bayonet drill was going as well as could be expected, particularly as all the commands were given in a very quiet voice. The platoon commander hurried over to him.
â Å“Warrant, it's out!â ?
â Å“What's out Sir?â ?
â Å“Bayonet fighting. It just came down from the Minister!â ?
The platoon WO dutifully finished the lesson then and there and sent the recruits off for character guidance and equity training with the Padre.
Two years later, in a country that sponsored terrorism, little Johnny was in a fighting pit. The enemy had managed to surround little Johnny's platoon and they were cut off, outnumbered and outgunned and out of ammunition. Things looked grim. Little Johnny's sect commander saw the next wave of attackers gathering to charge the platoon position. He yelled a warning to Johnny. Johnny wasn't used to be yelled at and became scared and confused. He couldn't understand what the Sgt wanted him to do. The Sgt jumped out of his pit and dashed across the open ground to Johnny's position. As he ran, a bullet struck him in the chest. He landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom of Johnny's pit, mortally wounded.
â Å“I said fix bayonets John. These mongrels are gonna over run us!â ?
Johnny grabbed his bayonet. He tried every which way to fix it to his rifle but he just couldn't remember how. His Sgt managed to fix the bayonet for him, despite loss of blood and sliding into shock.
â Å“There ya go John. Give 'em heck when they come for us!â ?
Johnny did his best. The enemy charged into his pit but the screaming and yelling scared and confused him. He waved the rifle and bayonet around but wasn't sure exactly what he was doing. Little Johnny and his platoon didn't make it.
Some time later a Board of Inquiry determined that poor training had led directly to poor performance on the battlefield.
Johnny's mom was outraged! She wrote to the Prime Minister, the Defence Minister, her local MP, the Chief of the Defence Staff, The Chief of Land Staff and everyone else she could think of. Her little boy had bravely volunteered to serve his country and now was being subjected to unspeakable acts of brutality. One would expect that if he was to be placed in harm's way, the least the Army could do was train him properly...
...Don't Let This Be Your Mom...
There was little Johnny, the apple of his mother's eye, deeply involved in his Recruit Training Course at St-Jean. It was not at all what he expected. He wrote to his mother:
â Å“Dear Mum,
I am having a bit of trouble here. There is a lot of shouting and yelling. I made a mistake on the Drill Square today and the Sergeant was really mean to me. I try very hard and I don't think he should yell like that. It scares me when people yell at me!â ?
Johnny's mom was outraged! She wrote to the Prime Minister, the Defence Minister, her local MP, the Chief of the Defence Staff, The Chief of Land Staff and everyone else she could think of. Her little boy had bravely volunteered to serve his country and now was being subjected to unspeakable acts of brutality.
Some time later, Mcpl Smith was again sweating his goonta out trying to turn this horrible bunch of civilians into a well-disciplined section. He gave his commands clearly, succinctly and loudly. Every now and then he was required to highlight the failings of a particular recruit in the approved Army manner. His Platoon WO approached him:
â Å“Mcpl Smith, it's out!â ?
â Å“What is Warrant?â ? Mcpl Smith asked.
â Å“The whole loud voice and criticism thing. It's just come down from the Minister!â ? Mcpl Smith continued his lesson in a quiet voice and despite the constant errors on the part of the recruits, refused to criticise them. He finished the lesson and marched his section off for a lecture on the rights and privileges from the social workers team.
Little Johnny again wrote to his mother:
â Å“Dear Mom,
Nobody is yelling at us any more and that's good, but today we were taught bayonet fighting by the platoon WO. This was terribly frightening! Just the thought of attacking someone with a bayonet makes me feel quite ill!â ?
Johnny's mom was outraged! She wrote to the Prime Minister, the Defence Minister, her local MP, the Chief of the Defence Staff, The Chief of Land Staff and everyone else she could think of. Her little boy had bravely volunteered to serve his country and now was being subjected to unspeakable acts of brutality. What kind of modern country would resort to fighting in this manner? Why on earth do my taxes get spent on smart weapons and still my baby boy has to learn to be a savage?
Some time later, the platoon WO was attempting to instil the requisite amount of fighting spirit in his recruits. The bayonet drill was going as well as could be expected, particularly as all the commands were given in a very quiet voice. The platoon commander hurried over to him.
â Å“Warrant, it's out!â ?
â Å“What's out Sir?â ?
â Å“Bayonet fighting. It just came down from the Minister!â ?
The platoon WO dutifully finished the lesson then and there and sent the recruits off for character guidance and equity training with the Padre.
Two years later, in a country that sponsored terrorism, little Johnny was in a fighting pit. The enemy had managed to surround little Johnny's platoon and they were cut off, outnumbered and outgunned and out of ammunition. Things looked grim. Little Johnny's sect commander saw the next wave of attackers gathering to charge the platoon position. He yelled a warning to Johnny. Johnny wasn't used to be yelled at and became scared and confused. He couldn't understand what the Sgt wanted him to do. The Sgt jumped out of his pit and dashed across the open ground to Johnny's position. As he ran, a bullet struck him in the chest. He landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom of Johnny's pit, mortally wounded.
â Å“I said fix bayonets John. These mongrels are gonna over run us!â ?
Johnny grabbed his bayonet. He tried every which way to fix it to his rifle but he just couldn't remember how. His Sgt managed to fix the bayonet for him, despite loss of blood and sliding into shock.
â Å“There ya go John. Give 'em heck when they come for us!â ?
Johnny did his best. The enemy charged into his pit but the screaming and yelling scared and confused him. He waved the rifle and bayonet around but wasn't sure exactly what he was doing. Little Johnny and his platoon didn't make it.
Some time later a Board of Inquiry determined that poor training had led directly to poor performance on the battlefield.
Johnny's mom was outraged! She wrote to the Prime Minister, the Defence Minister, her local MP, the Chief of the Defence Staff, The Chief of Land Staff and everyone else she could think of. Her little boy had bravely volunteered to serve his country and now was being subjected to unspeakable acts of brutality. One would expect that if he was to be placed in harm's way, the least the Army could do was train him properly...
...Don't Let This Be Your Mom...